


Valentine

by amaliastale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, Breasts, Cleaning, Cock Tease, Explicit Language, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, French Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Nudity, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Situational Humiliation, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, Valentine's Day, Verbal Humiliation, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliastale/pseuds/amaliastale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day at Hogwarts and Amalia Neverscorn has come into possession of a special charm that she hopes will reveal answers to her most burning sexual questions about the object of her desire, Professor Severus Snape.  But when Snape catches her goofing off during Potions class, the holiday unfolds a bit differently than Amalia had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Amalia is a seventh-year and Valentine's Day is February. She's 18 by this point. No muss, no fuss.

Amalia skulked into the Great Hall for Valentine’s Day breakfast in her customary weekday getup (robes, robes, and who care what you wear under your robes?), modified only by a red carnation tucked behind her ear and a very noticeable frown upon her face.  She was determined to _try_ to enjoy the holiday, but aside from receiving cards from a few of her girlfriends and attending a sure-to-be awkward mixer at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade that evening, she did not expect this particular Friday to be anything but depressing.  This would be her last Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts and her seventh straight without a date; Amalia did not have a boyfriend and she doubted she had any admirers, either.  All she did have was an unrequited secret crush on her Potion’s professor, Severus Snape.  She planned on spending some steamy time alone with him in her room that night—if only in her mind, of course—but how would that make today different than any other?

Plopping down at the Slytherin table, Amalia rummaged through her rucksack and pulled out a stack of handmade Valentine’s Day cards.  She passed them out to a half-dozen friends, a small smile budding on her lips; if nothing else Valentine’s Day was a nice way to let your friends know how much you appreciate them.  Still, she thought ruefully, she was probably the only one of her group who was not getting any action that night.

“Thanks Amy!” said her closest friend, Esmeralda Cynwood, beaming as she handed Amalia a pink envelope with a flourish.

Amalia opened it, wrinkling her nose when she saw that it was empty.  She looked at Esmeralda questioningly.  Esmeralda leaned in close and whispered, “Special treat, Ame.  Just for our group: one for you, one for me, one for Katharine, one for Sarah Beth.  My sister told me about them, they haven’t been available for _years_.  They’re charmed.  I bought them in Hogsmeade, from some witch I’d never seen before.  She was selling them like crazy!  Most of them got bought up by sixths years but she had enough left for me!”  Esmeralda spoke rapidly, her voice becoming breathless with excitement.  “I’ll tell you how it works on the way to Potions.  Can’t have everyone asking for one, you know?”  She grinned and took a zestful bite of festively heart-shaped Danish.

 

After breakfast, Amalia and Esmeralda embarked together to their first class, N.E.W.T. Level Potions with Professor Snape.

“So, what’s the deal?  What is this?” asked Amalia, studying the pink envelope as she walked.

“I got it _weeks_ ago but I managed to keep it a secret ‘til now!  It’s supposed to, sort of, find answers for you… to your most _burning sexual questions_ ,” said Esmeralda theatrically, laughing at Amalia’s dumbfounded expression.  She continued, “See, you just write the name of someone you, you know, _like_ , on a piece of parchment.   Put it in the envelope, seal it, and then comes the fun part...” Esmeralda wrung her hands devilishly, “Write 14 questions—because February 14, I guess—on the outside and by the end of the day, you should know the answer to at least one.  But how you find out is a mystery.   So make sure they’re all good questions!”

Amalia stared at the envelope, considering the task.  For a short time they walked without speaking, but remembering something important, Esmeralda exclaimed, “Oh!  I forgot: it all has to be done in his presence.  Your crush, I mean.  You don’t want him to see it, of course, but he needs to be around.  That’s the only way the charm will work.”

“Ok…” Amalia muttered, mind racing.  She had lots of questions, an endless deluge of questions, about her dark, mysterious professor—but she doubted this would really allow her to find out any answers. 

Esmeralda was still talking.  “So, Amy, who are you going to do?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know…” Amalia said hesitantly.  Esmeralda was her best friend, but Amalia had never admitted her desperate attraction to their teacher to anyone, not even to her.  Some things are just better kept to oneself.

“Come on!  I’ll tell you if you tell me.  Who?”

Trying to buy herself time, Amalia agreed, “I’ll tell you tonight, _if_ it works.  Ok?”  She hoped that by the end of the Hogsmeade mixer that evening, Esmeralda would be off with some boy and Amalia would be off the hook.

“Fine, fine.  But you’d better!  I won’t tell you mine until I hear yours.”  The pair continued in silence the rest of the way to class, each lost in private contemplation.

 

Amalia took her usual place in the Potions classroom, second row from the front and just off center.  Professor Snape was sitting at his desk in the front of the room, not yet attending to the bustle of entering students.  Amalia seized the opportunity to tear a scrap from her parchment and hurriedly scrawl “Severus Snape” before stuffing it into the pink envelope and sealing it closed.  She glanced around suspiciously, but no one was paying any attention.  All through the classroom, students were flirting, exchanging cards and gifts, and buzzing about the upcoming party.

When Professor Snape stood up, the students quieted and scattered to their seats; no one was interested in earning a detention on Valentine’s Day, of all days.  Amalia edged the pink envelope beneath her parchment, keeping it visible just enough that she could write her questions; after all, it would be her only opportunity to be in his presence that Valentine’s Day. 

Just before Snape started in on his lecture, Amalia noticed a small ball of crumpled parchment land on the desk beside her.  Snatching it quickly, she unfolded it beneath the desk and read: “Someone in our potions class?”  She spun around and saw Esmeralda grinning at her, her eyebrows wiggling madly.  Amalia sighed and hunched over her desk, beginning to thoughtfully scribble questions on the outside of the envelope. 

The beginning of the lesson flew by as Amalia concentrated on her envelope, every once in a while glancing up and nodding solemnly in the pretense that she was paying earnest attention.   But as the lesson dragged on and her thoughts bubbled over, she became fixated upon this Valentine’s side project.  She was up to her fifth question when she realized that the room had gone eerily silent. 

Amalia raised her head cautiously and saw that Snape was staring right at her. “What is it, Miss Neverscorn, which so firmly holds your attention, as it is clearly not today’s lecture?”  He strode over to her desk and grabbed the edge of the pink envelope that stuck out from beneath her parchment before Amalia had a chance to hide it.   His face lit up with recognition and he sneered, “Ah, yes, Valentine’s Day nonsense.  Unfortunately we run into this rubbish every few years, purchased from some miscreant in Hogsmeade, no doubt?   Miss Neverscorn, I would have believed you were a bit smarter than to play into such silly little games.”

Amalia bowed her head and prayed he would just hand the envelope back to her and move on with the lesson, but she knew that was not his style.

“Miss Neverscorn, for the benefit of those who are not informed, please tell the class what this is,” said Snape, holding the pink, scribble-covered envelope aloft for all to see.

“Um, it’s a Valentine’s Day charm …,” Amalia said weakly.

“And how does it function?  In detail, please.”

“You write the name of someone you like on a piece of parchment and seal it, and then you write questions about them on the envelope, and by the end of the day you’re supposed to get the answer to one,” said Amalia, hurrying through the explanation in the hopes that she could soon just shut her mouth and melt into her seat.

“What kind of questions?”

“Uh, romantic.”

“Or, if I am not mistaken, sex-ual.”  Snape drew out the word and Amalia flushed red hot; for all of her filthy little fantasies, she’d never once actually heard him say that word.

Silence.  _Painful_ silence.

“Correct, Miss Neverscorn?” asked Snape impatiently.

“Yes.”

“Well then, let’s find out what kind of questions pique Miss Neverscorn’s curiosity,” Snape continued with a sneer, “how big is his… Miss Neverscorn, that is a word we try not to use in the classroom at Hogwarts.”  The class laughed and Snape smirked overtop of the envelope as Amalia sunk low in her chair. 

Snape read on, “How many girls has he… hmm, another questionable choice of words.   I’m beginning to doubt your taste level, Miss Neverscorn.   Has he ever been in love?  Well that’s quite a change in direction from the previous.  Much more _ro-man-tic_ ,” he stretched the word, eliciting more guffaws from the other students. “Does he think I’m pretty?  Would he _fuck_ me?”  Snape emphasized “fuck,” eliciting gasps followed by riotous laughter.  “Only five?  Well, you’d better hope it still works.  Now, if I’m not mistaken, the charm is only effective if completed in the presence of your _object of desire_ ,” he said dramatically, “So, who is the lucky gentleman?” 

Amalia held her breath as Snape tore open the envelope, knowing full-well that he was about to come face to face with his own name, scrawled in her untidy hand.  But his expression did not change as he read the parchment; rather, he stuffed it swiftly into his robe pocket and said, “Fortunately for you, Miss Neverscorn, I shall not allow the foolery of this frivolous holiday to interfere with any more of our class time.  Detention.  Tonight at 7 pm.”

“But that’s when the Hogsmeade mixer starts!” Esmeralda exclaimed, clapping her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“Oh, is it? Pity,” said Snape facetiously, “Well, if you don’t want to join your friend in detention, Miss Cynwood, I suggest you quiet down.”

As Snape resumed the day’s lecture from where they left off, Amalia slumped in her chair, her face on fire and her heart beating out of her chest.

 

Amalia was all nerves for the rest of the day.  She arrived at the Potions Classroom at 6:55 pm (she certainly did not want to risk being late) wearing her school robes, with her Valentine’s Day party attire concealed underneath.  She hoped that, if she was lucky, she would be able to get out of detention as quickly as possible and still be able to attend most of the event at the Three Broomsticks.   

“Please take a seat,” said Snape, gesturing to a desk at the front of the classroom.  Amalia obliged.  Snape approached her coolly, reaching into his robe and pulling out the piece of parchment with his name on it, which he thrust directly under Amalia’s nose. “What does this say?”

“P-Professor S-Snape,” she stammered.

“And who is that?” he asked slowly.

“You, sir,” said Amalia, looking down.

“How interesting.  Am I to infer that these questions are concerning me?”  He reached into his robe once more and extracted the envelope.

Reluctantly, Amalia replied, “Yes.”

“Read them.  As if you were asking me these questions.”

Amalia’s head snapped up sharply, horrorstruck.

“You don’t want me to turn you in to the Headmaster, do you?  _Read them_ ,” he repeated, menacingly.

“… How… b-big-“

“Address me properly.  Begin each question with ‘Professor Snape.’”

“Professor Snape.  How big is your… cock?” she finished meekly.

Snape smirked.  “Continue.”

“Professor Snape, how many girls have you, uh, fucked?”

“Professor Snape, have you ever been in love?”  With this question, Amalia noticed his eyes narrow and the corners of his mouth twitch slightly.

Amalia took another deep breath.  The next two were almost worse, they were so personal!  “Professor Snape, do you think I’m pretty?” she asked in an apologetic tone.  His face was stony, betraying no answers.  “Professor Snape… would you fuck me?”  She winced as she fought through the last few words.  Snape only stared at her.  Amalia squirmed.

“Good.  Now, quid pro quo, I have a few questions for you, Miss Neverscorn,” Snape snarled, placing his hands on either side of her desk, “how tight is your cunt?  Are you a virgin?  How long have you wanted me to fuck you?  And will you beg me for it?”  The volume of his voice grew to a furious crescendo as he leaned forward until his large hook nose was only millimeters away from her face.  As Amalia sat cowering, wide-eyed, Snape turned suddenly and stalked over to his desk.

 He opened a drawer and balled something into his fist, then returned to Amalia’s desk, placing a small vial in front of her.  “Now, we have two options.  You can drink the potion in this vial and forget everything that has happened in the past ten minutes.  I will hand you a parchment and a quill and you will write lines for half an hour.  Then, you will be permitted to head out to your little party,” he concluded snidely. 

“Or,” and his voice was softer now, almost predatory, “you may remain here, with me, and we can attempt to satisfy some of our mutual curiosity.”  There was a wicked glint in his eye and his lips curled into a cruel smile.  He leaned in once again and Amalia shivered, feeling his hot breath on her ear.  He whispered, “Take a moment to think about what you’re getting into, little girl,” before returning to his desk and casually leafing through a textbook.

For several interminable minutes, Amalia sat frozen in her seat.  Was this really happening?  Her hands shook as she fiddled with the vial, occasionally stealing glances at the intimidating professor, who continued to ignore her.   Finally, she got to her feet and began to walk toward him.  Snape did not acknowledge her approach.  Upon reaching his desk, she placed the still-full vial in front of him and waited.  After a long pause, Snape asked, “Is that your answer?” 

Amalia nodded nervously.  Snape rose abruptly and roughly grabbed the front of her robes, pulling Amalia’s body against his and smashing his lips onto hers in a hungry, unrestrained kiss.  Not to be outdone, Amalia moaned and threw her arms around his neck, eagerly shoving her tongue into his mouth.  It was her first Valentine’s Day kiss ever, and Amalia was ready.


	2. Valentine Part 2

Amalia’s tongue entwined with his and she pressed her hips hard into his leg.  When she nipped playfully at his bottom lip with her teeth, Snape pulled away, smirking; Amalia lunged impatiently for more, but Snape turned so that her mouth collided with his sallow cheek.  He snickered, “Eager, aren’t we?”

Pink in the face, Amalia released him and stepped back.  Smoothing her robes, she giggled and replied sheepishly, “Oh, um, yeah.  Sorry.”

Snape brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, deeper than the last.  Amalia followed his lead, her lips dancing with his in earnest and sensual passion, her chest heaving rhythmically against his own, fingers roving through his long black hair.  Mouth still firmly pinned to hers, Snape began undoing the buttons that secured her robes until the garment fell to the floor at her feet.  He let out a sharp laugh when he saw the Valentine’s Day outfit that she had concealed underneath.  

Amalia frowned.  Getting dolled up with her girlfriends earlier that evening in the Slytherin dorms, she had felt unstoppably sexy.  But now, she sensed that maybe she had left her blouse unbuttoned a bit too low, revealing the lacy top of a red camisole; her pleated skirt was perhaps a little too short, only just skimming the top of her black thigh-high stockings; and her shiny red pumps, which she had bought especially for Valentine’s Day in a Muggle shop in London, thinking them so seductive at the time, now seemed tacky and jejune under the eye of this stoic and sophisticated man. 

Running his hands over her bare arms, Snape chaffed, “Hardly appropriate detention attire, Miss Neverscorn.”

“Well, hardly appropriate detention behavior, Professor Snape,” she rejoined cheekily, giddy at his touch.

 “That goes for both of us, I suppose.  Tell me, were you actually planning on going out in this,” sneering, Snape looked her up and down, “…ahem, outfit?  Because I should hope that a student of Hogwarts, particularly a member of my own House, would not plan on representing herself in public like a complete harlot. ”

Amalia snorted and rolled her eyes. “I guess you must not see a lot of us Slytherin girls on the weekends, Professor.  Yes, I did think maybe I could go to the party if I got out of detention early,” pausing, she placed a hand on his chest. “This is much better, though,” she finished quietly, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him once more.

 “I am inclined to agree,” he said slyly before meeting her lips.  As they kissed, Amalia started to unbutton her blouse.

“Please, permit me to assist you,” Snape requested, halting their embrace.

Amalia was still, trying not to tremble but uncomfortably aware of the flurry in her ribcage as her heart pounded with anticipation.  Snape took his time undoing her top, releasing each button with measured and tortuous leisure; when he’d finally unhooked the last, he dropped the blouse amid her fallen robes.  He arched an eyebrow as his gaze flickered over the hint of cleavage exposed above the neckline of her camisole, which he then, too, peeled off and tossed aside.  His arms encircled her waist and he removed her skirt so that she stood before him in a matching pink strapless bra and panties, her black thigh-highs and red heels.  Briefly scanning her undergarments, Snape rolled his eyes, “You take this inane holiday a bit too seriously.” 

Snape traced his long, pale fingers over the gentle swell of her breasts.   Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra, which landed onto the growing mound of clothing around her ankles.  A low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he weighed her breasts in his cold hands.  Closing his eyes, he stroked his thumbs along her curves, his fingertips gliding over her nipples, which tightened at the contact.  Amalia’s attention did not waver from his face; the intensity of his concentration as he touched her frightened her a bit, but thrilled her, too.  He lifted one breast to his mouth and flicked his tongue over her stiff nipple before wrapping it in his lips and sucking hard, causing Amalia to squeal shrilly.  Her abandoned response seemed to awaken him from his reverie and at once his whole manner changed; his hands and mouth grew rough, the delicate massages became frenzied groping, the caresses turned pinches, the licks to bites.  He manipulated her breasts rapaciously until he had his fill and, straightening up, growled, “Lovely.”

Snape ran his hands over her hips, up her torso and down again to the waistband of her underpants.  He knelt before her and kissed her abdomen, from the bottom of her ribcage to just below her navel.  Breathing heavily, Amalia placed a hand on his shoulder, at once to steady her shaking body and, simply, to hold him.  She let her head fall back and sighed, savoring the sensation of his lips on her goose-bumped skin.  His large nose skimmed the fabric of her panties as he bowed to plant a quick kiss on each of her inner thighs. 

Gingerly he rolled her stockings down, removing them along with her shoes, before placing his hands on her calves and running them upward to meet the curve of her ass.  Gripping her buttocks, he pulled her to his face and inhaled deeply, then roughly kissed the crotch of her underwear, his tongue probing at her through the thin cotton.  Shivering with cold and excitement and nerves, Amalia uttered a strained moan; she wanted him to know she how liked what he was doing, but it came out sounding so overdone, so awkward that she went violently red.

“You’re nervous,” he observed, glancing up, and Amalia detected a note of concern in his voice.

“Oh, a bit,” she chuckled, embarrassed by her obvious inexperience.

He pulled her panties aside and softly kissed the top of her slit, and Amalia felt her own sticky arousal streak her leg when he yanked them off entirely.

“And wet,” he said smugly, sliding his thumb along her velvety lips. 

“You made me.”

 “Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Neverscorn?”

“Oh, yes.  Very much, Professor.”

Without warning, Snape got to his feet, his voice returning a familiar professorial tone, “But my dear Miss Neverscorn, this is _supposed_ to be detention.  I have not forgotten that you are here for punishment.  It can’t all be pleasure.”

Amalia opened her mouth in shocked exasperation.  They were beyond all this, weren’t they?  They were going to—

Abandoning her confused train of thought and attempting to recover the lust of the moment, Amalia adopted her most kittenish air and purred, “But Professor, what about _your_ pleasure?”

 “How thoughtful, Miss Neverscorn,” said Snape mockingly, pacing back and forth, “But I am quite accustomed to putting my own pleasure on hold.  No need to worry about me.  Now, the question is what _type_ of punishment would be suitable.  Obviously, at this point, more traditional methods would be… inconsistent with the current circumstances.  No,” stopping in front of her, he stroked her cheek, “Something a bit more appropriate.”  He gestured toward one of the lab tables where students worked on their potions projects, upon which sat a collection of glass vials next to a large stone basin.  “A punishment befitting of those dirty questions… such a _dirty_ little mind.  Why don’t I have you clean our dirty potions vials?  No magic.  I will be at my desk, waiting.”

Raising her eyebrows, Amalia asked, “And I have to be naked?”

 “By all means, you are free to put your clothes on and do it fully dressed, if you have changed your mind about your earlier decision.”

Amalia chewed her lower lip contemplatively.   She peered over at the little bottles, all lined up and waiting to be cleaned.  “You planned this!” she accused indignantly.  Snape merely shrugged nonchalantly.

Still turning the present situation over in her mind, Amalia mused, “And me, being naked… that turns you on?”

Snape stared for a long moment before conceding, “Yes.”

Amalia smiled coyly and tossed her hair, “Alright, then.”   Spontaneously, she stooped to slip her pumps back on, ensuring that Snape had a good view of her ass.  Turning matter-of-factly, she walked toward the basin with an exaggerated sway in her hips, and the click of her heels on the stone floor echoed throughout the dungeon.  If he was going to torment her, she wanted to torment him in kind.

Amalia commenced her assignment by dropping the dozen or so odd bottles into the basin, her eyes fixed on Snape, who was reclining in his desk chair, arms folded across his chest.  She stirred the basin carelessly, making sure that some of the contents splashed onto her breasts and abdomen; feigning annoyance, she cooed, “Oops,” wiping at the spill with her hands until her bare torso glistened with soapy water.  Snape’s severe expression did not waver.

Scouring the countertop for a rag but seeing none, Amalia turned to the cabinets that lined the wall behind her.  She bent over, her legs slightly parted, willfully presenting her most intimate places to the imperturbable Potions Master.  She took her time retrieving the rags, knowing that he was watching, that he could see all of her.

Standing again, Amalia withdrew a vial from the basin.  Holding the long, slim tube by the base, she stroked the rag suggestively along its entire length, up and down, twisting and rotating, taking time to dwell at the rim.  She tossed a casual wink at Snape, who shifted in his seat, before she lifted the vial to eye level to inspect her progress.  She opened her mouth and exhaled lightly over the glass, shining it up and laying it aside.  As she repeated the process on the next of the vials, she stole a glimpse of her professor’s crotch, wondering if her display was successful in arousing him, but she was disappointed to find that she could not tell whether he was sporting an erection beneath his heavy robes.  She continued with several more vials until Snape interrupted the silence with a solitary, “Yes.”

Amalia looked up, startled, “What?”

“An answer for you.   Yes, I do think you’re pretty.  Was that not on your little list?”

Bashfully flattered, Amalia could not suppress a grin; “Oh, yes, thanks.  Well, I think you’re really hot, Professor.”

Snorting, Snape said, “ _Obviously_ … But thank you, Miss Neverscorn.   Now, that’s one answer for you.  I believe that is all the charm promised.”

“So does that mean it’s all I get?” she pouted.

 “If you receive any other answers, I expect you to earn them.  If you play nice, you may receive one or two more checks off of your list the end of the evening.   Of course, in fairness, I would require one or two checks off of my list in return.”

Blushing, Amalia continued her work but focused now on finishing the task efficiently.  She was not interested in playing any more games or wasting any more time; she was very keen to find out how things would progress from there.  When she had cleaned all of the vials, she asked, “Ok, I’m finished.  Now am I done being punished?  Because I would really like to move on to the pleasurable part.” 

Smirking, Snape answered, “You are finished with your punishment, yes.  But whether I am through punishing you will remain to be seen.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion, in which Snape and Amalia finally do it.

Snape held out an arm, languidly beckoning her to come to him.  Amalia adopted a seductive swagger, and, upon reaching him, mounted his lap, her knees on either side of his legs and her hands just above his shoulders on the back of the chair. She ran her breasts, nipples erect, back and forth across his cheeks and over his lips.  When he opened his mouth receptively, she pulled back slyly and brought her lips to his ear.  “Pleasure now?” she purred. 

Snape chuckled, short and deep, the reverberations rippling between their bodies, and traced his palm along the curve of her buttocks.  No further response necessary, Amalia sank down and held her naked crotch firmly against his thigh, and began to undulate and wiggle teasingly.   “You weren’t very nice to me in class,” she pouted, “I want something.”

“Oh?” Snape arched an eyebrow, his cool hands traveling the contours of her hips.

“Another answer.”

“Oh, you’ll get one,” he growled, shoving his erection urgently against her.

Amalia shook her head, tapping her finger on his chest playfully; “No, a new one,” she said sternly, “A question you don’t expect.  I’ve been _so_ nice.”  Leaning in, she ran her tongue over his earlobe and whispered seriously, “You owe me.”   Pausing contemplatively, she added, “Have you ever thought about fucking me before?” as she squirmed against him.

“Perhaps…it has crossed my mind, fleetingly.  I try not to entertain such notions about students.”

Amalia snorted, reaching below to stroke his hardness through the fabric of his robes, “No?  You’ve never wanked to me, Professor?”

Snape coughed.  “Ah, no, I have not.  Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I think you’ll start,” she cooed naughtily in his ear.

Snape laughed a sharp, staccato laugh, “You’re quite bold, Miss Neverscorn.  I must admit, I am enjoying it.”

Grinning mischievously, Amalia slipped off of his lap, kneeling before him and opening his frock coat.  Snape eyed at the damp sheen she’d left on his trousers where she had sat and smirked at her.  Amalia mirrored the smirk as she nimbly undid his pants to free his straining prick.  She licked her lips as her fingers wandered delicately over his length, before wrapping one fist around him tightly and bringing him to her mouth. 

Skimming her tongue over the head and lapping daintily at the dripping tip, she accepted him into her lips.  As she became used to his size and encouraged by his low moans, her cautious dips and bobs gave way to starved, sloppy pumping and sucking, engulfing his thick cock more and more, deeper and deeper, until it hit the back of her throat and she choked.  Pulling him from her mouth, saliva and precum smearing her lips, she gagged and sputtered; Snape cast a superior look, “Are you sure a little girl like you can handle me?”

“Only one way to find out,” she rejoined, again descending on his erection with relish, cradling his heavy testicles in her feminine hands, determined to prove her merit and unhinge the austere Potions Professor.  Groaning, Snape shifted and entangled his fingers in her long hair, mercilessly ramming himself far into her throat.  When she could take no more, Amalia jerked him free and studied his face, her eyes wide and wet and bloodshot from the effort; imploringly, she mewed, “Can we…?”   

Snape nodded brusquely and Amalia clambered to his lap, lowering herself down carefully and allowing her slick folds to glide along his rigid shaft, grinding her aching clitoris desperately against his cock.  She lifted her hips, prepared to receive him, but Snape pushed her away, rasping, “Wait.”

Flustered, Amalia stammered, “W-what, why?” 

“Now you answer me, _are_ you a virgin?” Snape demanded pointedly.

Apprehensively she admitted, “Oh, well, yes,” hastily adding, “I mean, I’ve done other things.”

Snape sneered, “Other things?”

“Played around some …You know, like…” she wrinkled her nose, embarrassed, and muttered, “Hand stuff, mouth stuff.”

“So, you’re a cock tease,” he charged, his tone scornful, but edged with amusement.

Amalia frowned.  “Well I never had any complaints,” she retorted defensively.

“No, you wouldn’t, not from schoolboys,” he spat the words with disdain, “But do you know anything of pleasing a man?”  They stared at each other, Amalia’s lip quivering with abashed frustration, and Snape’s voice softened.  “This will hurt, you know,” he said slowly.

“But I want you to fuck me!” she pleaded.

“Oh, I will,” said Snape smugly.  “That answers my question as to whether you would beg me for it…” he dropped his hand and grazed his knuckles lightly over her slit, continuing, “Miss Neverscorn, I will fuck this precious little cunt in every fashion conceivable; which comes first matters not to me.” He shrugged. “Tonight I propose a more efficacious position than this for your _first time._   Make it… _nice_.”

Guiding her off of him, Snape stood and grasped her hand, and lead her to the other side of the desk, which he cleared with a flick of his wand.  He whipped off his cape and laid it atop the hard wooden surface, and, drawing her close, gripped her bottom to hoist her onto the desk. 

“Put your heels up,” he hissed in her ear.  Quickly, she complied, and Snape pried her knees apart, the corners of his mouth twisting into a faint smile as he surveyed between her legs, passing his pale index finger along her swollen clitoris before easing it into her wet vagina.  Gradually at first, in and out, his other hand resting on her thigh and his eyes glued to her face.  Amalia’s own gaze flickered to the long finger sliding deliberately inside her; he added another easily, as she was drenched with arousal, continuing, idly, to prime her.   Finally, Amalia’s eyes rested on his and she breathed, “You can fuck me now, if you want.”

“I am in no rush.”  Snape plunged another finger into her and Amalia tensed.  He extracted his fingers and brought them to his lips, tasting his fingertips before wiping them dry on his tunic.  His hands traveled to the long line of buttons that bisected his torso and he unfastened them leisurely, dropping the garment unceremoniously to the floor, so that he stood before her in a thin undershirt and his partially-undone trousers.  He stripped his shirt off, too, tossing it aside before dropping his pants to the ground and stepping toward her.  Amalia admired his naked body, lean and pale and slightly vulnerable now, in a way she had never seen before.

 Pushing her back, he climbed over her, reaching down to steer his member to her waiting quim.  “I’ll be gentle, little girl,” he snarled, brushing the hair from her forehead as Amalia trembled beneath him. 

He worked into her, proceeding slowly and resting often to allow her to become accustomed to his girth; meeting the resistance of her hymen, he whispered, “Better to do this part fast,” and thrust abruptly, tearing her asunder in one swift stroke.  Amalia squealed in pained surprise, screwing her eyes shut and digging her nails into the flesh of his back. 

Halting, Snape panted, “Are you alright?”

Amalia peered up at him and said, with a weak smile, “Yes… keep going.”

 Snape increased his pace, rapt with concentration.  Amalia watched him; he was quiet now, but for the muted, staccato grunts that escaped his throat with growing frequency.  He pounded away at her, ostensibly oblivious to her presence in the act, and Amalia started to feel a bit forgotten; she murmured “Severus”, hoping to reestablish a connection, to attest her enjoyment, but he made no indication that he heard her and, soon, any lingering tenderness in his manner melted away. 

Lost in passion, he drove into her hungrily, ferociously, his brow glistening with perspiration, dark hair plastered against pallid skin, the lines on his face accentuated by the severity of his expression.  Boosting himself up with both arms and burying his manhood in her to the hilt, he cried out and shuddered.  Amalia felt his hot seed erupt inside of her.  Snape’s elbows gave way and he collapsed, lying there on top of her, gasping for breath as his erection diminished within her.

Amalia stared at the ceiling.  She coughed meekly, stirring Snape from his post-coital stupor.   Immediately he rolled off of her, fluidly slipping his arm under her shoulders and pulling her body against his, cradling her alongside of him. 

 “Um…” she mumbled apologetically, “I did like it, I really did.  I’m sorry I didn’t....um…”

“Didn’t _come_?” he asked derisively with eyebrows raised, but then concluded in a milder tone, “I’m not sure many women do their first time.  Let me.” 

He massaged her clitoris and Amalia stiffened apprehensively; she wanted to finish, to enjoy herself, to give herself over to complete ecstasy, but she could not quit thinking about it, trying too hard.  So she observed his ministrations with tacit curiosity and, when she noticed that his fingers were stained with blood, she inhaled anxiously, mortified and revolted.  With a sideways glance, Snape whispered, “No matter.  Just relax…. here.”  He took Amalia’s hand and placed it between her legs, turning toward her expectantly.

Amalia went red.  She looked at him questioningly and Snape curled his lip.  He scoffed, “I know you’ve done that thinking about me.  If anything, it should _help_ that I am present.” 

Amalia began to make small, uncertain circles over her clitoris with her fingers as Snape’s own hand drifted to her breast, streaking the pale skin crimson as he toyed with her nipple.  Amalia settled into to crook of his arm, her fingers picking up rapidity, until her body twitched and convulsed, hips bucking and legs thrashing, her rapturous moans stifled behind gritted teeth. 

 “Nicely done, Miss Neverscorn,” Snape said, amused.  He sat upright and slid off of the desk, collecting his vesture and beginning to dress.  Removing his wand from his pocket, he mouthed a spell, clearing the desktop of blood and semen and sweat.  Amalia gave him a wan smile; suddenly, she felt shy at her nakedness, and her inexperience, and the blood and the messiness and the fact that she just masturbated to orgasm in front of her Potions teacher.

“Put your clothes on,” Snape directed, scooping her things from the floor and placing them beside her.  As he buttoned his own shirtsleeves, he continued, “I will let you into the Prefect’s bathroom; you can have a proper bath.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, sorting through her rumpled attire.

When they were fully dressed, Snape walked to the door of the classroom, and Amalia trailed behind.  Before he opened it, he turned to her and warned tersely, “Behave yourself, lest we are seen.” 

They walked in silence to the Prefect’s bathroom, Amalia a chaste distance from Severus the whole way, appearing as no more than an ordinary teacher and student walking casually together through the halls of Hogwarts.  At the doorway to the bathroom, Snape stopped and regarded her for a moment.  “You’ll be alright?”

 She nodded. 

“Good,” and, lowering his voice, he growled, “I have much more planned for you, Neverscorn.”

She nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

With a flick of his wand, the door swung open and, without another word, Snape spun on his heel and stalked away.

 

_Amalia sat cross-legged on her bed in the Slytherin dorm, wearing her pajamas and absently leafing through a magazine, reflecting on the events of that day, when Esmeralda stumbled in, barefoot and pink-cheeked, her outfit in disarray, smelling of Butterbeer and boys’ cologne.  “You missed a hell of a party, Ams,” she giggled._

_Nonchalant, Amalia arched an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?”_

_“It was out of control!  But, hey!  I did NOT forget your prom-issssse,” Esmeralda sang._

_“Which was…?” Amalia bluffed._

_“_ Did it work?! _The charm!  The envelope!  Miiiiiiiine did… I found out more than a few things about Benjamin Sutherly,” she boasted, laughing._

_Amalia looked her friend dead-on and said, with affected bitterness, “Ok, fine.  I found out that Jameson Cork has a crush on some sixth-year.”_

_“Ohhh… heh, you like him?”  
Amalia shrugged, “Yeah, I mean sort of… but he likes someone else, so… whatever.  I’ll live.”_

_“Don’t worry, Ams, you’ll find someone.  I will NOT let you leave Hogwarts a virgin!”  Esmeralda promised emphatically, toppling onto her bed in a fit of tipsy titters._

_Amalia rolled her eyes and shut the magazine, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. “Goodnight.”  She crawled beneath the blankets and settled down to sleep, smirking.  Some things are just better kept to oneself._


End file.
